


Storm's Wings

by asthiathien



Category: Space Battleship Yamato | Star Blazers
Genre: Character Study, Dark, Extended Metaphors, Freeform, Gen, Moral Ambiguity, Morality, POV Spaceship, Yamato POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asthiathien/pseuds/asthiathien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Yamato had been born in fire and death, born to avenge a dying people. She had taught the Star Force to fight, and given them the strength to live through the darkness.<br/>And in return, they had showed her to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm's Wings

The _Yamato_ was not everything they were.

The _Yamato_ was the flame, yes, the flame which burned a path through the darkness and showed them the way, but it was the Star Force who walked that path to their enemies. Who leaped into the darkness without a trace of regret, who tracked enemies that many would have said were without fear through the shadowed paths, hunted them down and destroyed them.

The _Yamato_ was their guide, and their transport. Her spirit gave them hope, her spirit showed them, in the beginning, that all was not yet lost, but it was they who supported her flagging strength when she began to fall to injuries, they who gave her the strength and courage to fly, because she knew they would be there to catch her should she ever fall.

And in return, she showed them how to fly on their own, taught them how to fight and gave them the way into their enemies' strongholds. She had been solely the teacher, in their early days; she had supported them with herself alone. But then, as they slowly began to learn, they supported her in her turn, and they taught her, too.

The _Yamato_ was their spirit, the hope they relied on to see them through the darkness, the guiding star they knew would lead them to a brighter dawn. And in turn, they were her strength, the power behind her strikes, and should she ever stagger, they were there, waiting, to hold her up and help her stand strong at their side. She had been born in fire and pain, she had been forged to avenge a shattered world, but they had taught her to be creation rather than merely destruction. They had shown her a different path, one not stained with fire and blood and darkness, but one of light and peace. And for all that she was a tool of war, she had learned.

They had healed scars left by her remaking, tamed the uncontrolled fires of her spirit so she was a weapon precise, lethal but only when necessary, bright and blazing but also warming and healing. And she had saved them, when they were helpless. Saved them, and used all that she had been taught to heal them and spare them from the encroaching darkness, to bring them back from the shadow and return them to the light, just as they had always done for her.

But they had learned from her, too; they had learned to kill, they had learned what it was to be merciless, in the dark and in the shadow, and somehow they had yet managed to retain their morality despite the blood upon their hands. And that had given her hope, that perhaps she could find a soul too, if they could pass through death and flame and not lose it?

And as the water column shattered around her, with her, and as the ice of a prison she knew would only be temporary formed around her broken body, and as her spirit slipped away into slumber, she hoped with all her fractured, dying heart that she could.


End file.
